


Shadows

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-04
Updated: 2004-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:48:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shadows stalk them both. For Buffy, Faith's descent to evil haunts her every step. For Spike, the ghost of the human he once was threatens to resurface. In late S3, they meet and for one moment face their worst fears...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadows

Spring was back and, with it, another apocalypse. Buffy could feel it in her bones, but those thoughts weren’t what consumed her as she prowled her way through San Pedro Cemetery, stake firmly in hand. And the fledgling she was hunting wasn’t distracting enough to keep her mind from dwelling.

 _Punch. Feint. Block. Stake. Poof._

Simple, clean, straightforward. Almost rote to her now.

That thought frightened her even more, caused her mind to become even more deeply routed in its troubles. The kill was easy to her now, natural. She remembered once it had been so hard, just seeing a human form crumble to dust, screaming out with its last breath of life. Well, unlife. Merrick – and then Giles – had taught her that she was actually doing them a favor, helping the people whose corpses had been possessed by demons. She’d pretended to believe at first, but it seemed that each day that pleasant lie became more and more false to her.

No matter what, she was killing. She was a killer.

Just like Faith…

She had dreams some nights. She and Faith were back in that alley, exchanging jibes and smiles, doing what they did best: Killing. Her dream would follow that fight from memory, move for move, until that final staking…

But this time it wasn’t Faith’s stake that plunged into that human’s chest; it was Buffy’s. Buffy who, just as easily, could’ve gotten caught up in the thrill of the hunt. Buffy who could’ve killed a man.

She could see now that she’d distanced herself from Faith in the aftermath. She’d seen what she could become, and something deep inside her knew that it was _wrong_ , and she should fear it. So she’d turned a blind eye to that part of the Slayer, the part that said that one mortal life wasn’t worth so much in the grand scale of all the lives she’d saved…

Faith had turned against them all, was plotting with the Mayor even now. And Buffy, despite the friends and the family and the loving boyfriend (or was it non-loving non-boyfriend now?), could see herself descending along the same path. The darkness was within her. She could _feel_ it, taste it, smell it. The hunt called to her, and this wasn’t some black-and-white battle between good and evil. Oh no, this was the excitement of sinking her fingers through flesh and ripping her prey’s life away, simply because she _could_. It was what she was made to do.

And, when she thought about it, was it any wonder Angel didn’t want her anymore? He could fight the demon within, but she couldn’t fight the Slayer. The Slayer was who see was. Angel had loved her when she’d been locked inside, trapped, a sweet little innocent girl. But she wasn’t a girl anymore; the Slayer had grown to womanhood. And she couldn’t blame Angel for not wanting that. She didn’t even want it…

She wondered whether he would’ve stayed if she’d been able to fight it better. If she’d fought and clung to her childhood years, denying all change and remained the sweet princess waiting for her knight in shining armor. She bet he would’ve. He wouldn’t have abandoned her when she needed his protection. But when all she needed anymore was his companionship and his love?

Sometimes she hated Angel and his martyr complex…

But, if he wasn’t gone yet, he was going. She could see it in his eyes when they planned their final battle against the Mayor. She could feel it when she danced with him that night at the prom. Angel was still there in body, but their love was gone.

And Buffy didn’t know how to survive without it. Would she wither away? Would the Slayer slowly creep in, take over the void in her heart? Would she, in short, turn into what Faith had become?

She shivered, despite the warm night air…

* * *

Spike hated this god-awful little burg, stuck right in the middle of too-sunny, too-cheerful, too-perky California. Bloody awful state. Bland and washed out and filled with the most bubble-headed of Americans. And, given Americans in general, that was saying something. But, nevertheless, he kept coming back, drawn by the site of his greatest failure.

He wanted to maim that night, to cut and slice and kill. To hear soft whimpers for mercy, and then to give none. _That_ would show Dru that he was still as much the Big Bad as ever. Teach her that he was still black-hearted as black-hearted could be.

He could still hear her laugh, see the ugly smile on her lips as she wrapped herself around that D’vorak demon. Cheating on him again…

 _“My Spike is dead! Polluted, corrupted, violated! You’re nothing but William now. Sad, pathetic, useless William. Oh, I thought I could save you from your misery, but I was wrong. You were too weak…”_

He’d tried. He’d pleaded with her that that little ponce was dead, that he was as bloodthirsty as ever, that she _had_ saved him. Helping the Slayer… Well, it had been selfish, right? No spark of good there, no shred of humanity. She’d just laughed, laughed and left him again.

And so he was back, circling the site of his despair over and over again. Trapped in this cage, the Hellmouth’s curse to human and demon alike. And he had to kill. He had to finish off what he started, prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that William was gone forever, burnt to ash, and only the monster remained.

He’d show Dru.

He’d show them all.

Because the scent of Slayer was in the air. And this time he wouldn’t fail…

* * *

Buffy sensed him before she saw him, and her shoulders tensed as she turned to face what appeared to be just another grove of trees. Her fingers flexed and tightened around the stake, seeking out the best grip on the fine-polished wood.

He circled her slowly, cautiously, as one would approach any dangerous animal. The dark hunter within was closer to the surface than he’d ever seen it, and it excited him and made him wary all at once. But she knew he was there. No point in hiding.

“Miss me, luv?” He stepped from the shadows casually, hands buried the pockets of his duster, hair gleaming silver in the moonlight.

“I thought you’d run back to your cheap ho of a girlfriend,” Buffy snapped back. This was the same, jibes and cutting words. The same, and yet somehow so much different…

He shrugged. “Got bored with the bint. Decided to head back north for the fine cuisine. Been a while since I feasted on Slayer.” He licked his lips and looked her up and down. Her blood smelled of the sweet nectar of undiluted power. And her little body, standing there, hard and feminine all at once… His cock strained against his jeans in anticipation of this kill. _Beautiful_ , his mind whispered, _radiant, effu—_

 _NO!_ The demon within him screamed, and he faltered for a second, shook it off. _Not that little twit of a poet. Not ever again…_

Buffy noticed the pause in him and took full advantage of it. In an instant, she had him pinned back against a mausoleum wall, one hand pressed flat against his chest, the other raising the stake high. The Slayer surged with excitement. _Another powerful enemy crumbled to ash. Kill, kill, blood, blood…_

Her eyes widened, and she froze, her stake hovering before him almost comically. Because in that one twisted, horrible moment, she didn’t know which was good or bad anymore. Killing was wrong. Killing was good. Enjoying killing was wrong. Enjoying killing was what she was _made_ for… The thoughts spun through her head in a cacophonous spiral.

Spike’s eyes were wide on the stake, but he puzzled why she’d stopped. Just what was going on in that pretty little head that her eyes were so wide with terror?

And, he realized with sudden horror, he should be taking advantage of this lapse. He should be defeating her, plunging his fangs into her neck right then. But some part of him didn’t want it to be like this. She was his greatest challenge ever. She deserved a fair shot, an even chance. No tricks, just the two of them locked in battle. Maybe if he asked her what was wro—

 _Nononono!_

There was something in Spike’s eyes now, too. Like he was fighting back a demon just like she was. What demons – metaphoric demons, that is – could a real demon face? It was baffling. But not as baffling as her own predicament.

 _What do I do?_ Buffy wondered.

 _What do I do?_ Spike’s thoughts unknowingly echoed hers.

 _I prove to myself once and for all that I’m not Faith_ , she decided. _I’m not like her. God, what would she do in this situation? Torture him? Bleed him? Fuck him into the ground?_

 _Dear old William’d probably be writing odes to her beauty by now_ , Spike concluded. _Little tosser would be head over heels, offering his hand in marriage. Caught up in his little wet-dreams, and worshipping her goodness so much he couldn’t even see straight…_

Buffy wished that last thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Because once she’d thought it, she couldn’t go back. ‘Sex’ and ‘Spike’ had _never_ gone in the same sentence for her before. But now, as she looked at him – _really_ looked at him – she couldn’t imagine she hadn’t thought it from the first. God, he was gorgeous with those sharp cheekbones and the long lashes and the full lower lip. She could feel the musculature under her palm, and it felt better than it had any right feeling. _Ohgodohgod…_ Her mind went into overdrive. _I am like Faith. I’m exactly like her…_

As if to give William even further cause to rebel within him, the scent of Slayer arousal suddenly filled the night air. He responded as any man would, and he hated himself for it. He should be disgusted. This was the _Slayer_ for crying out loud! Only good little vamps who wanted to play at being white hats wanted the _Slayer_.

 _Could drag her into the shadows with me_ , the Big Bad tried to reassert himself. _Nothing wrong with a good shag. No reason she has to be the one to come out on top…_ But the analogy was fraught with perils. Because this demon’s shadow wasn’t dark at all, but bright and glistening, and a part of it was drawn to the flame of her life more than anything else in this world.

 _Faith would want him. Faith would screw him. But I’m not Faith_ , Buffy’s mind was insisting. _She’s only a shadow, a warning of what I could become if I’m not careful. But I’m not there yet, and I’ll prove it…_

Both of their eyes widened in shocked amazement when she dropped the stake, caught his face between her hands, and kissed him hard on the lips.

They both knew that they should pull back, revolted. Neither of them did.

Spike’s hands clutched at her waist, pulling her closer, his mouth slanting over hers. Hungry. But not for blood.

Buffy’s fingers tangled in his hair, and she met his tongue with her own, inviting him inside. Desperate for his wildness, for these new sensations he brought to life within her.

 _She’s our salvation_ , William whimpered from the shadows of Spike’s mind.

 _I don’t want to be saved…_

 _He’s our culmination_ , a Faith-like voice sounded in Buffy’s mind.

 _I don’t want to change, to grow up. Everything was so perfect before…_

They broke apart with a start, both panting heavily, eyes wide and frightened. Frightened of each other in a way they never had been before.

“Leave town,” she pleaded with him softly.

And he didn’t even care that she was begging him, that he should taunt her for it. He nodded vigorously and vanished into the night.

Shaken, Buffy ran for home. For her bed and Mr. Gordo and her room where she’d lain for so many years dreaming of Angel, her handsome knight. Funny how the sadness she felt thinking of him wasn’t for the love they’d once known but for the childhood that was being snatched away. _Things change. Sucks to grow up, doesn’t it, B?_

Spike was in his car in less than two minutes. Out of Sunnyhell in ten. Yeah, he’d go back to Dru. _She’d_ make him the demon he’d been once again. They’d run through South America together, rivers of blood in their wake. Just like old times. _In your heart of hearts_ , William whispered, _you know that she’ll never be your true equal. She’ll never change you for the better…_

 _Shut up!_ Buffy screamed at the monster, and Spike screamed at the man.

And, for the moment, the shadows that haunted them were silent.

It was only a matter of time before they came back, however, only a matter of time before they were both forced to face the struggles that would one day bind them forever.

But, for now, they ran.


End file.
